I haven’t written in a long time, partly because the blog is now secret and partly because I’ve been worked off my feet for the last month. Seriously, I haven’t had time to bring out the recycling in four weeks, let alone write a blogpost.
But today it’s coming spilling out. Rushing out. I can’t not write this post. Doesn’t matter how tired I am. Doesn’t matter that I have notes saved on my phone for two completely different posts. I had to write today.
Tom Daley came out yesterday. He announced to the world, in an adorably self-conscious video, that he’s got a boyfriend.
I’ve fancied Tom Daley for a long time. He’s very high on my list, alongside Zayn Malik, Artem Chigvintsev, Zac Efron and the entire male cast of Teen Wolf. Like everyone else on that list, he’s someone who I always pretended to myself was gay. And he is. Or at least bisexual.
I subscribe to his Facebook account and I saw the link he posted at about 11:30 yesterday morning as I was playing around with my phone while walking to my office in college. I stopped. I didn’t bother going to my office. I needed to watch it immediately.
His video is beautifully sheepish and earnest and boyish and all the things that yank at Connor’s heartstrings.
I stood in the corridor of the Arts Block, watching the video on my phone. I literally barked when he got to the part (about two and three quarters minutes in) when he said “the someone I’ve been seeing…[long adorable nervous pause]…is a guy.” That’s right. I barked (like a dog) with emotion because an Olympic diver I will never meet likes boys.
I have no idea what the other people in the corridor thought of me, watching YouTube on my phone, barking and crying. I imagine it’s not the kind of thing they see every day.
As well as the adorable nervousness and sincerity of the video, the other thing that struck me was Tom’s use of the word “safe”. Twice in the video, Tom describes the way his new boyfriend makes him feel as “safe”.
And that’s all I want. To be safe.
Sure, I’d love a bit of sex. And sure, I’d love having someone who has to care about the minor details of my life. But mainly, when I’m lying alone in bed, I want to feel safe.
I’ve been back online, back on the one meet-up site where I’m always popular – the one for feeders and gainers. I’ve been chatting to men. One of them is probably going to come over. He wants to lick and jiggle my belly. He wants to wash it down and to feel its weight on top of him. He wants to rub it. I want to feel safe. So I’ll let him.
There’s probably a better way, but I’ve never had a relationship longer than ten days and I haven’t been to bed with a man in six years. I’ve got to start somewhere. And if that means having my belly licked, then so be it. It’s the first step to feeling safe. Safe like Tom.